


Inside The Baking Tent

by CynicalRainbows



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Great British Bake Off AU, baking related fluff, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 16:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10517919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalRainbows/pseuds/CynicalRainbows
Summary: Great British Bake Off Pupcake AU, divided into one-shots.





	1. Fondant Petals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evenatango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenatango/gifts).



> Not a patch on Bluebluebabys own GBBO au- I do urge everyone to read hers, it's an actual proper story!- but I hope people enjoy anyhow.
> 
> Credit to jumpinjulianofnorwich, whose tumblr prompt inspired this whole thing.  
> Reviews are much appreciated!

It was the second day. 

Nobody was talking to her, but a pheasant outside catches Patsy’s eye, and they stare at each other for a long moment before it flutters away. She decides that can count as her ‘mingling’. She finds she's glad of the pheasant, for that.

Although really, was it actually a native of the field? It seems almost TOO perfect, TOO quirkily British, to be true. She has a sudden vivid mental image of the BBC sending out drones to catch pheasants in time for the opening shots of the episode and her lips twitch into a smile as she takes another drag of her cigarette.

‘Well this isn’t very family friendly!’

A pair of cherry red high heels appear in front of her- above them, smooth blonde chignon, red lipstick and perfectly arched eyebrows to match her arch remark.  
Patsy feels flustered for a second- were they actually not meant to smoke on set? Surely they weren’t filming yet?- before the woman’s- Trixie’s- face softens into a smile and she shows Patsy the cigarette she is holding herself.

‘I was ever so relieved to see you out here- I thought I’d be utterly stuck if I ever ran out!’

‘Ditto. Somehow I don’t think this is quite Bake Off approved recreation.’

‘The smoking or the lurking furtively outside the tent?’

‘Both. And I wasn’t lurking!’ Patsy adds defensively.

‘Mm?’ How did Trixie manage to make an eyebrow look so very disbelieving?

‘Just….clearing my head.’

‘With smoke?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see.’ Trixie smirks. ‘ Well if you feel you need to clear your head after shooting, I brought a bottle of Campari.’

*

The tent was so BIG- so wide and light and airy. It was also noisy- a constant hum of conversation and worried mutterings and the ever-present cacophony of bowls and spoons and trays and oven doors. A million miles away from Patsy’s own smallish flat in Chelsea, with her shelf of medical textbooks over the kitchen counter, her cupboards jammed with icing sugar and food colouring and dessicated coconut underneath, her framed  graduation photo from Trinity on top of the fridge.

Pink and white fondant roses bloom beneath her fingers as she works but her ears are pricked- she can hear the contingent of assorted hosts and judges making its rounds and she definitely does not want to be taken unawares.

‘So how did you decide to get into this?’

‘Delectable! Manna from heaven could not taste sweeter, my dear!’

‘Really it was in university that I first-’

‘It’s a maple and pecan glaze-’

The group has split into two- one of the judges, the elderly one, had attached herself to the baking station of one of the contestants and was sampling his syrup with great delight, while the two hosts continued making their rounds with the obligatory introductory questions.

Patsy keeps her eyes firmly on her workstation, rehearsing yet again in her head the response she had practised at home, ever since she had had her place in the competition confirmed.  
Brisk, bland answers- nothing to raise questions or spark interest.

She tries to focus, to concentrate-on her pre-prepared answers, on the fondant in her hands- it will be alright, just answer normally and they’ll move on, job done- but she can’t- she feels nervous, jumpy, and a tiny wild part of her brain actually rather wants to just walk out of the tent altogether.

'My mother always loved baking- she actually got me into it and we used to-'

'Interesting blend of flavours there…you must make sure the pistachio doesn’t overpower the more subtle rose water-'

Her forehead feels damp underneath her fringe and her hands are clumsy with the anticipation- a petal is crushed beyond repair and she has to start her last rose again.

It will be alright- you got into baking as a child, in cookery lessons at school. Your whole family is proud of you. No, there isn’t a particular relative you take after, baking wise. No, your mother didn’t teach you.  
Safe and vague and utterly unrefutable, just on the off chance a journalist decides to dig.

‘Do you have any culinary idols among your family?’

‘Well my grandmother taught me the trick of perfect icing when I was eleven, it’s really just-’

And then suddenly the hosts reach her table- both smiling, friendly, non threatening. A nice break from the judges really, apart from the fact that they talk more.  
Patsy peeps up from the decimated mess of fondant, although unsurprisingly, the two women are not much different up close as they had been standing at the front of the tent.  
A thick dark fringe, trademark yellow blazer and canary yellow Doc Martins; a flamingo pink Alice band, slightly anxious smile and a small flowery brooch on her cardigan.

Are her hands actually shaking?

‘So Patsy- Patience, Patricia, Patrice, Cleopatra…’ Yellow blazer. ’… Martha?’

Delia raises an eyebrow as she says the last name and Barbara beside her struggles to hide a smile.

'I’m impressed you were able to get Martha from Patsy, Delia.’

'Don’t laugh Babs, Patsy is a valid diminutive for Martha- Lincoln’s wife for one, I am told. According to Twitter anyway.’

'You’re making this up!’

'No word of a lie! And Barbara, just think about how badly you’ll feel if her name does turn out to be Martha!’

Suddenly stricken, Barbara turns to Patsy, a hand flying to cover her mouth.

'Oh- oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t making fun-’

She is so earnest in her horror that Patsy is actually distracted from her own anxiety for a moment- it’s really rather funny. She’d heard friends discussing the Bake Off presenters before and constantly either praising or lamenting the second presenter that seemed to be universally known as 'the sweet, nervy one’.  
Now she understands how the name caught on so quickly.

'It’s perfectly alright- it’s Patience, actually.’

Barbara’s shoulders sink in visible relief and Delia decides to rescue her.

'Patience- certainly a quality you’ll be needing in the tasks to come- and today most of all, if you intend on finishing this- if I may say- absolutely wonderful garden up here’

She reaches out and almost-but-not-quite touches one of the sugar roses.

'Delia-’ Barbara makes a show of slapping Delia’s hand away, obviously recovered enough to resume her presenter’s patter 'Look, don’t touch!’

Delia gasps in exaggerated mock hurt and disappointment, and pulls her hand back.

'Sorry, sorry, sorry- they just look so real, I felt I needed to check that our contestant hadn’t sneaked a bouquet in with her.’

'They are absolutely splendid’ Barbara turns to Patsy, smiling, and Patsy feels her stomach tighten again.  
Here it comes…

'So Patsy- we’ve been asking everyone- how did you-’

'Decide upon a floral theme for today?’ Delia cuts in smoothly. 'Is it something we should look out for in the future or are you just a hippy flower child at heart?’

Patsy feels the relief of the rescue before she is quite able to process it mentally and it takes her a second to answer.

'I’m- I- I’m a florist’ she manages eventually. 'I suppose I’m just in the habit of taking work with me wherever I go, whether I want to or not.’

'So we can look forward to more works of art like this one in the future?’

'Yes, I think so.’

'Excellent!’ Delia beams at her. Patsy manages a smile back, still reeling internally at Delia’s perfectly timed interruption. 'Well, I shall definitely look forward to seeing what you magic up for us next!’

She picks up a discarded petal from the work surface and pops it into her mouth.  
'Delicious!’

She gives Patsy another wide grin before she starts walking away and Barbara follows her, with a smile and a 'Good luck!’ as they go.

And Patsy is left with her fondant petals.

**

The contestants are set free after they present, and scatter like children let loose from the classroom, the tension of the day making everyone a little more skittish than normal.  
Patsy makes her away to her smoking spot outside and is surprised to see that the heads of the daffodils are drooping, heavy with moisture and the grass is sparkling in the last afternoon sun.  
Did it really rain without her noticing? She supposes it’s testament to how hard she was concentrating, and hopes against hope that it pays off.

After everything, it turns out that she doesn’t want to go home yet after all.

From wanting to run out of the tent earlier, she is surprised now at home much she wants to stay-and supposes she can credit Delia with her change of heart. Did she rescue Patsy on purpose- pick up somehow on the fact that Patsy was genuinely dreading questions of the home-family-parents variety?  
Or was it coincidence?

Then again- Patsy thinks back to Delia and Barbara’s little pantomime earlier, Delia deliberately giving Barbara an out to distract her from her tiny panic- maybe Delia is just a naturally kind person?

That would be interesting and a little disconcerting. Patsy is not used to naturally kind people.

'Hello’

She would be annoyed- is there no peace anymore?- and she has been craving a moment to herself all day… but for some reason, she isn’t as put out at the sight of the butter yellow Doc Martins as she thought she would be. Speak of the devil….

'Hello’

There’s a pause- she proffers the cigarette packet, mostly because she isn’t quite sure what to say and it seems like the polite thing to do, but Delia shakes her head, smiling.

'Thanks but no thanks. I just wanted to talk to you- to ask you actually, if you minded what I did earlier’

'I’m sorry?’

'Jumping across Barbara like that- at the time I thought- well I thought I’d be doing you a favour but now I think I might just have been horribly presumptuous. And I’m sorry if I was- I promise to leave it alone from now on, though.’

'No- no, you weren’t.’ Patsy stubs her cigarette out and wonders how to go on- how do you tell someone you definitely do want a certain subject avoided but also give the impression that you have no interesting, curiosity-inducing issues with said subject at all? 'I should have thanked you actually’

A little more frank than she intended.

She knows she should have thanked Delia, but she also certainly doesn’t want Delia questioning her about why she’s so grateful for the reprieve.

But 'It’s alright’ Is all Delia says. 'Sorry we put you all through the third degree a bit at the start. Only the first day though. We’ll be back to puns and innuendos tomorrow.’

'I’m glad to hear it’

'You might not be so glad tomorrow- some of them are truly awful.’

'Well I shall await with bated breath then- that just makes it even more exciting!’

Delia grins 'I shall make sure not to disappoint then.’  
Then 'Do you really work as a florist?’

What? Does she now think Patsy’s so afraid of questions she’s just making everything up?

'Yes. Really. Why?’

It’s slightly frosty and Delia’s face falls just the tiniest bit, and Patsy feels a surge of annoyance at herself from making what she must admit is a truly lovely smile fade.

'Oh it’s not that I don’t believe you- it’s just interesting. No one I know works as a florist. It sounds nice though- spending your day surrounded by flowers.’

'It is nice- you sort of stop appreciating it after a while though. Like here- I suppose you get a bit sick of the smell of baking doing this all day?’

'Not a bit of it! It smells like home.’

Delia looks so enthusiastic at the thought of home. What must that feel like?

'Your home?’

'Yes- but any home really. The smell of baking is a homely thing for everyone, I think. Although Mam’s bakes are a little more Welsh than anything we get you contestants to do here.’

'Maybe we should have a Welsh week?’

'We should!’ Delia beams at her’ What a fantastic idea! I’m going to suggest it to Antonia tomorrow!’

'I’ve probably shot myself in the foot there- I’ve never actually really tried welsh baking’

'Never?’ Delia’s look of absolute horror is most endearing. 'Oh Patsy you must!’

'I’ve just never really been to Wales either.’

'Oh it gets worse and worse! Patsy you must visit Pembroke one day, it’s absolutely lovely!’

Is that home for you?’

'Yep- not that I’m able to be there much anymore, living in London and everything.’

'Do you miss it?’  
She feels guilty for a moment- she shouldn’t be asking Delia such personal questions. After all, she’d hate it if anyone did that to her. But Delia doesn’t look at all offended.

'Oh yes- my whole family is back in Pembroke. And there are other things- the countryside and the open fresh air and everything, it just isn’t; the same in London. Like spring- London does it’s best best but really you should see Pembroke in May, all the flowers out and everything so colourful and smelling of spring-’  
She breaks off, looking a little embarrassed at her enthusiasm.  
'Not that I need to tell you, working in a florists.’

'It’s OK- cut flowers aren’t quite the same as fresh.’  
It’s actually on the tip of her tongue to add 'You should come and see the shop though, if you ever get truly hungry for colour’ although she’s never been one for spur of the moment invites- her shop is her sanctuary after all. Then the bakers are called back to the tent and she manages to bite it back. Then she feels disappointed in herself for some reason.

She can’t think why.


	2. Florentines

The day’s baking was over. The ovens were cooled, the dustings of flour wiped up from the kitchen surfaces. The late-afternoon sun slanted in through the clear plastic sheeting that served as windows, warming the counter tops and carpet and the back of Patsy’s head as she scrubbed at a patch of water-and-flour that had somehow dried and hardened to the strength of concrete.

Patsy knew that they weren’t obligated to clean up their own stations beyond a cursory wipe down but found it much harder to leave a mess behind her in the tent than to stay a little longer and endure Delia and Trixie’s teasing.

‘Do you have to clean all the benches before we can go or just yours?’

‘Just mine. I’m nearly finished.’

‘You said that ten minutes ago. I’m ready to faint with the waiting, honestly, Pats.’

Barbara waited patiently, perched on the edge of Winifred’s workstation, nibbling a left over Florentine and smilingly waving away the set hands who had been over to reassure Patsy that she needn’t bother with cleaning three times already.

‘……..- please will you go away, she can clean if she wants to!’ Delia suddenly broke off to snap at the inoffensive looking young man in thick black spectacles who had been hovering at the edge of the group. Patsy smiled a little.

He looked embarrassed and backed away a couple of steps.

‘Ah- yes. Sorry. Just- that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to ask if the taxi waiting outside belonged to any of you?’

Trixie leapt up, grabbing her things.

‘Yes, that’s me! See you all tomorrow, sweeties. If I’m not here, it means my date went fantastically well and I’ve left you all behind for a life of luxury.’

Once Trixie and the man had left them (walking at a much brisker pace than he had approached them, Patsy noted- Trixie trying not to laugh), Delia buried her head in her hands.

‘Oh goodness, I feel awful!’

'It’s alright- I’m sure he’ll understand you were only sticking up for Patsy’s fundamental human right to clean- even to her impossibly high standards. No one can blame you for that.’

'That’s a very sweet and charitable interpretation of it, Barbara. Of course he could also just assume I’m an impossibly grumpy dragon. One or the other.’

'Well dragons ARE welsh-’

The last vestiges of flour gone from the Formica, Patsy straightened up.

'Right, I’m done. No need to terrify anyone else on my behalf, Deels’

'Thank goodness- can we go for that drink now?’

Barbara jumped down from the counter top and swallowed the last of her Florentine- Delia stretched and tugged the Doc Martins she’d kicked off after filming back on.

They left the tent, and made their way slowly towards the front of the mansion, savouring the last vestiges of summer. On the wide drive in front of the mansion, waited a small solitary figure in a long green coat.

'What’s Winifred still doing here?’

She had been looking anxiously at her phone, occasionally giving it a small shake, as one would a thermometer- but as the others reached her, she looked up and smiled.

'I thought you’d all left! I couldn’t borrow somebody’s mobile, could I? My battery’s flat and I need to call for a ride home but I didn’t like to bother anybody-’

'Of course!’ All three reached into their bags and pockets, fumbling with zips and buttons but Barbara was first to thrust her pink-cased phone into Winifred’s hands.

'Here you go- although if you’re not in a rush-’ she glanced towards Patsy and Delia 'We were going to go for a drink in the village, if you want to join us?’

'I don’t really drink, I’m afraid-’

'Oh me neither- but you can get a coffee or a hot chocolate where we’re going . Only if you’d like to come of course.’

There was a moment of hesitation- Patsy was surprised to recognise Winifred’s indecision- the split second moment of wondering if an invitation was serious, if the giver would regret  offering if you took it up- and  from being familiar with her own.

'Yes, do come- if you’re not busy of course.’

When Winifred didn’t reply right away, Patsy wondered if she had misjudged- maybe the woman really didn’t want to come- and felt the familiar sting of regret that came with pushing your company one someone who would rather do without. But then Winifred smiled, nodded, and fell into step with the rest of them as they carried on up the drive to the road.

'How long have you been here? Were you really going to just stay her until tomorrow if no one turned up?’ Delia asked as they rounded the corner.

'Not really-’ The woman gave an embarrassed laugh. 'Or maybe. I really hate having to disturb people, and everyone’s so busy after filming.’

'Oh I’m the same!’ Barbara hastened to reassure her. ’ But honestly someone;s always around, don't let yourself be stranded unnecessarily’

'Thank you- it’s a little awkward when you don;t know people that well to ask for favours. I should probably be better at it now, of course.’

Patsy felt surprised- it hadn’t occurred to her until then that she was not the only baker who found it slightly disconcerting to have to blend into a group of strangers. Moreover, Winifred had so far been one of the more open bakers- she was, if not close, on friendly terms with everyone- she was smiley and welcoming to the judges and presenters when they approached her table, and always among the first to offer left over ingredients to bakers who ran short or who had to start again. 

True, Patsy supposed, she might be more reserved during the break periods- but since she herself was usually smoking outside anyway, she really wasn’t in a place to judge.

She was saved having to voice her thoughts- Delia had gotten there first.

'Well I’d have thought the other contestants would be more shy of you than the other way round- the river scene you did for the signature challenge today was wonderful.’

Winifred coloured a little.  
'Thank you- I paint a bit, in my spare time you know. And painting using food colouring isn’t so very different to using proper paints.’

'Well I agree with you there- I can’t get the hang of either.’

Winifred smiled at Patsy. 'It’s just practise. And the icing flowers you make leave me utterly confused as to how you even begin so I suppose that makes us even.’

'I can’t really take credit- I work in a flower shop so I’ve more time than most to study what I want to make.’

'I heard, when they were doing the first interviews- it must be lovely.’

Patsy allowed herself a smile.

'It is, rather. It’s peaceful.’

She stopped there- she was never quite able to feel comfortable talking candidly about what her shop meant to her: a bolt hole from the world, second only to her flat, a place where the only interactions you had to engage in with people were completely familiar and following a set prescribed pattern. Intimacy only on your own terms, only having to give away as much of yourself as you wanted.   
She always felt more comfortable interacting with people when there was a barrier between them- whether that be a plate of shortbread or the worn-smooth polished wood of the shop counter.

Delia changed the subject.

'What do you do again, Winifred?’

'I’m a teacher.’

'Goodness-’ Barbara was wide eyed. 'How interesting- I used to teach Sunday school sometimes but that was only an hour a week. It must be tremendously rewarding to do it full time, I always thought.’

'What age?' Delia wanted to know 'I used to help with cubs sometimes in Pembroke but that was so different- just teaching them what you fancied really. I spent most of the time teaching them first aid, all the ways they could hurt themselves and then all the ways to fix it. Although Mam said I was mostly just giving them ideas.’

Patsy laughed. 'Didn’t you say that three of them were caught trying to run away to live in the woods after you taught them about wilderness survival?’

Delia shuddered. 'Don’t remind me! The parents were NOT pleased with me after that week. Although I still think it’s good to be prepared.’

'I agree!’ Winifred looked earnest. 'Better to know and never have to use it than the other way round. Although I know what you mean about the parents- they can get the strangest ideas and fears. Not that I blame them, of course, I mean their children are precious to them- but it can get a bit wearing!’

'Ooh’ Barbara looked interested. 'I’m glad I’m not the only one. What did they come to you about? My worst one was the mother who was convinced that me telling them the story of Cain and Abel was just spurring her boys on to greater violence- apparently they both wanted to be the next Cain’

'Better Cain than Abel. Although you can't blame them for taking it seriously- when I was little and first hear the story of Noah, I was terrified!’

'That the world would be flooded?’

'That it would be flooded and I’d be the next Noah and have to gather up all the animals- and Mam wouldn’t even let me have a kitten, so I had no idea how I’d manage to gather two elephants and two tigers and two of everything else into my bedroom without her seeing. Let alone where I’d find them in Pembroke.’

'I always thought I’d do a better job than Noah myself’ Patsy added 'I told my teacher he should’ve saved more than two of each in case one of them died on the boat. She said God would protect them while they were on the boat and so I asked why Noah needed to bother with a boat in the first place- couldn’t god have just saved the ones he wanted without Noah having to go to all the trouble.’

'What did she say?’

'That if I carried on asking questions like that, I could be sure I would NOT find myself on the next Arc. It was a convent school you see- questions like mine didn’t go down too well as I recall.’

'Have you ever had any of your children asking things like that?’

'Oh yes- and not just in RE, but always. But it’s a school after all- what are they there for if not to ask questions?’

'What do you do?’

'Answer as honestly as I can. Within reason, of course. And age appropriately. I still have to spend at least half of each parents evening assuring a parent or two I am NOT out to corrupt their little ones- and the other half that I’m not trying to convert them either’

'Convert?’

'I was quite active in my church- I still am really. But that used to be my full time job and I didn’t make a secret of it when I started teaching. It rather put some people out.’

'And they thought that would corrupt their children?’

'Oh no- it’s just- the work I did with the church was mostly focused on helping out women. Sex workers, actually. I didn’t make a secret of that either- not to the teachers anyway. I was proud of it- I still am. And it made people a little uncomfortable.’

'But that sounds like such selfless work.’

'Oh- it’s not really. The women are the brave ones- we’re just there to make things a little easier if we can.’

'And how did you get into it?’

'It used to be my pet project really- I sort of spearheaded the whole thing and kept pushing until more people started taking notice. Then I started teaching full time so of course I didn’t have the time to keep it up, sadly. Luckily by that point, enough people were involved that I could pass it on without too much trouble.’

'Do you miss it?’

'Oh yes- but id miss teaching more if I went back to it. The women are still being helped, that’s the main thing I have to focus on, even if its not me doing it. Actually, I miss them most of all- I still see Fiona and Suyuan at church but the rest have their own lives.’

'Golly- they go to your church?’

'Why shouldn’t they? Some of them found god through us- some were already church members. Of course, some of them aren't religious and that's obviously ok too. But they're welcome at church if they ever decide they want to- after all, it'd send a very odd message to say they were good enough to help but not to pray with.’

'I suppose so- still, I just never imagined church being somewhere that would welcome members like…that.’

'Oh we’re very welcoming- at least we try to be. You really should visit one Sunday and see. No really- you don’t have to be part of the church to come along. But yes, we try and welcome everyone- working girls, alcoholics, drug users, we’ve had quite a few ex convicts over the years, homosexuals, adulterers, gamblers- anyone really is welcome. Jesus did say we should hate the sin and love the sinner after all, and I think we should all try and live by that.’

Patsy felt her stomach clench, and it was a struggle to keep the smile on her face. Such a struggle in fact that she only realised she was the only one still smiling when Barbara spoke.

'Homosexuals?'

'Well-'

'You...don’t really think being gay is a sin, do you?’

'Being gay, no. Sin isn’t about what you are, after all, it’s what you do that matters.’

'But being with someone of the same sex- that’s a sin? So me having a girlfriend- that would be a sin?’

In the midst of everything, Patsy felt her stomach clench- Delia had a girlfriend? Then she remembered the week before, Delia’s joking with Barbara when the signature challenge was a wedding cake, about how they were both doomed to spinsterhood.

Winifred looked a little awkward.

'I feel awful expressing like that but-’

'Is it or not?’

'Well- yes. Technically.’

'Right.’

Delia looked angry but was holding herself back. 'Fine.’

Barbara shot Winifred a sidelong glance that was more curious than anguished.

'But you believe in God’s love for everyone?“

Yes, of course I do.’ Winifred looked a little upset. 'But- well, you asked.’

'Sorry, I like to know who thinks I deserve to be alone forever.’

'You’re-’

'Yes.”

'I had no- I’m-’

'Don’t tell me you’re sorry’ Delia suddenly snapped. 'It shouldn’t make a difference if I am or not, you know.’

The silence was stiff and uncomfortable as they walked.

Then suddenly Winifred stopped.

'Look can I use your phone again, please Barbara? I think I’m going to go straight home after all.’

Barbara handed the phone over, and they waited in silence as she made the call to the taxi company.

'Look- ’ Winifred glanced at them quickly as Barbara stowed her phone away. 'I am sorry about this. I- I’ll see you all-’

She turned and walked quickly away, leaving the three of them behind.

**

Patsy stared up at her dark ceiling, unable to sleep, the events of the evening still whirling round and round her head.

On balance, the evening hadn’t been as awful as it could have been. After Winifred had left, they had still gone for the drink they had planned- but things had been awkward, subdued.

Delia had been fuming, even as they settled down to their drinks around the slightly sticky corner table.

'How can she- how can people still believe all that utter rubbish on this day and age?’

Barbara had been more restrained. 'It’s not all her fault, really- if you’ve been brought up that way-’

'She’s not a child, Babs- she’s old enough to have made her own opinions by now.’

'And maybe she has- or maybe she hasn’t, at least not on this. I’d rather think she just hasn’t needed to question it yet, than think she;s being deliberately malicious.’

'I know but- it’s hard to hear.’

The fight seemed to go out of Delia all at once and she slumped back against the padded bench.  
'I thought I’d left all that behind in Pembroke.’

Barbara leant over and gave her a hug.

I’m sorry, it’s horrible I know. With time though, maybe- if someone works on her-’

'Maybe. I don't think I have the energy to argue it out with her every day though. Not while we’re filming and I have to concentrate. Besides it’s my job- why should I have to defend myself?’

'Oh goodness, I meant me, not you.’ Barbara looked surprised.  
'It won’t be as hard for me as it is for you, I’m not as involved- and she knows I go to church too. Maybe it’ll be help.’

Delia looked touched.  
'Maybe. Maybe it won’t. But it’s sweet of you anyway, Babs.’

Patsy found herself sitting silently, contemplating it all. Honestly, she felt more shocked by Delia’s reaction than by Winifred’s revelation. It had never occurred to her that people WOULDN’T be disgusted by her if they knew who- or what- she was. It had never occurred to her to expect otherwise.

'Patsy? You’re very quiet.’  
Barbara broke into her thoughts. 'Are you alright?’

Patsy had forced a smile and nodded. 'Fine. Just tired.’

'Baking all day must be exhausting- I don;t know how you manage it, especially all that kneading for break week-’

The conversation had drifted away after that, to lighter subjects, and Winifred wasn’t mentioned again, although Delia had stayed a little more reserved than normal, seeming distracted.

Later that evening though, after Barbara had gone to the bar  in search of more sugar for her cocoa. Delia had turned to her, real consternation in her face.

'Pats-’ She was struggling with the words. 'Do you-’

'What is it?’

'Do you- oh god’ She broke off . 'Look I’ve been debating all night whether to ask you this but if I didn’t, I’d just be wondering. Are you like Winifred? Do you think I’m a bad person- because I’m gay?’

Patsy was shocked silent.

'I’m sorry I even have to ask-’ Delia rushed on. 'It’s just…. you didn’t say anything. And I need to know because I really like you Pats, and I cant bear being uncertain about this.’

She looked ready to cry and that, more than anything, disturbed Patsy more- it seemed so wrong, when Delia was usually so incredibly sunny and cheerful.

'Of course I don’t!’ she eventually burst out. 'I just didn’t know what to say-’

And Delia had visibly relaxed. 'Oh thank god. I was so worried Pats!’

She smiled at Patsy, still a little shaky and Patsy had made herself smile back.

It was on the tip of her tongue- so close to carry on- I’m the same as you, she wanted to say, of course I’m on your side.

But the words stuck. Infuriatingly, inevitably, the words stuck, as they always did, and Patsy found herself craning her neck round to the bar, changing the subject to get away from the topic.  
As always did.  
Look- she heard herself- her stupid cowardly self- say- I think Barbara has managed to scavenge another sugar bowl.

And- 'Good.’ Said Delia. 'Good for her.’

*

Her phone buzzed, sounding too loud in the quiet bedroom, and Patsy jerked up into a sitting position.

An unfamiliar number.

'Are you alright?’

As she was puzzling it over, it lit up again.

'This is Barbara btw xx.’

Ah. Patsy recalled how they had all swapped phone numbers, scribbled onto scraps of paper napkin. Hers was still crumpled in the bottom of her handbag- she hadn’t expected to actually need it, in all honesty. Who, after all, would need to talk to her so urgently?

Lying back onto her pillows, she rolled onto her side and hit reply.

'Fine. Why?’

'Delia was a bit upset about- what happened earlier. I wanted to make sure you were ok. I know it must be harder for you two than it was for me.’

'What do you mean?’

'Well it’s personal for you both. Obviously I didn’t like her saying it but it didn’t cut the same. I’m sorry it all happened. It was meant to be a nice evening!’

 

The reality of what Barbara was saying hit Patsy like the proverbial ton of bricks- no, a ton of tons of bricks.

Her thumbs were poised to begin the usual denials- what do you mean, of course I’ not- but somehow she found herself typing and hitting send automatically: How did you know?

'Was it meant to be secret?’ Came back almost immediately.  
Then- 'I’m sorry, Patsy, I haven’t said anything to anyone else if you’re worried about that. And I won’t mention it again if you’d rather I didn’t, honestly.’

Patsy slowly lowered her phone to the pillow a little stunned.  
How- why…. it was everything she had dreaded since she was fifteen- someone guessing that she was that way, someone confirming that she really did give out some sort of signal without meaning to. When really she did everything she could to HIDE that part of herself from everyone-

Her phone buzzed again.  
'I’m sorry Patsy, I feel I’ve rather put my foot in it. I’ll say nothing, of course.’  
Then again.  
'But I’m here if you need anything, all the same.’

It was what she had dreaded for years- but somehow, through the shock, Patsy found that somehow, it wasn’t quite as horrific as she had imagined it would be. She read Barbara’s text again- and the tight anxiety in her throat lessened slightly.

'I’m here if you need anything.’

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that to her after all.

Was it really such a bad thing for someone- if that person was Barbara- to know?

Her thumbs hovered over the keypad as she lay there, thinking it over.

'It’s alright. It’s kind of you to say. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And then:

'Thank you, Barbara.’

And Patsy hit send.


	3. Freshly Baked Katah

Her dough is too wet. She can tell before she even sinks her hands into it, and somehow no matter what she does, it remains so, clinging to her fingers with an insistence that quickly progresses from merely irritating to genuinely frightening.

It is an elimination competition after all, and her katah had been deemed merely passable by the judges that morning- even Louise, who normally is pleasantly positive, had seemed let down.

As much as she wants to impress Delia (and she does want to impress her, she has admitted that much to herself)- to appear not just charming and funny but cultured and intelligent too (and Delia is intelligent- Patsy has watched enough Bake Off reruns during the last couple of weeks to catch glimpses of the sharp intellect that is usually obscured by her lighthearted and easy going screen demeanor) she bitterly regrets her brief foray into Armenian cuisine.

It was wasted anyway- Delia has been absent all morning. In between worrying about her dough, Patsy is wondering if Delia is alright- in all the reruns she has watched (and she has watched a LOT) Delia has never missed an entire baking session.

(She’s only been watching the reruns to get an idea of the competition of course. Not to hear Delia’s voice or anything. And Patsy is personally quite proud of herself for utterly how unaffected she has remained in regards to the warmth of Delia’s smile, the way her way her dimples show when she laughs, the easy way she carries herself as if she is utterly comfortable in her own skin.)

What must that feel like?

‘My dear! You seem to have created a veritable swamp!’

It’s the judges- worse, it’s Antonia. Patsy likes the old woman- at least she thinks she does. At least, she respects her- her seemingly boundless knowledge of mythology, theology, philosophy, her razor wit, her admittedly impressive baking skills. And she must admit, she has had to hide her own smile on more than one occasion when Antonia has used her talent for repartee to deliver a stinging-but-highly-amusing critique of another baker’s technique. But she knows it’s much less fun being on the receiving end.

Worst, it’s bread week, and it is a well-known fact that Antonia becomes far more irascible in the absence of sugar.

‘ A Lernaean Hydra would feel most at home within your bowl- and if that was your goal, then I must applaud your finesse. If, however, you have in fact been attempting a bread dough…’ Her mouth tightens in disapproval ‘I would advise less moisture, for fear a serpent takes up residence at your baking station. For at present, it is fit for nothing more.’

Ouch.

She’s normally very good at taking criticism- but today it hits her harder than she’d care to admit: perhaps it’s the inevitableness of it all. At work, she can usually fix any mistakes before they’re irrevocable. At university, she got used to seeing criticism- however harsh- as path to improvement. But here, there’s nothing she can do- her bread dough isn’t getting better, there isn’t time to remake it and there won’t be a second chance when it comes to the judging.

And Delia is still missing.

Patsy is forced to admit that if she is eliminated now, the chances of her seeing Delia again are slim: as close as they’ve become over the course of the series (and they have grown close: she’s gotten into the habit of saving Delia little tastes of whatever she makes, Delia seems personally invested when Patsy removes her bakes from the oven and while they spend a lot of time with the other competitors, they always manage to scoop out a few moments just the two of them, usually ending up helpless with laughter.)

But it’s the show that keeps them close- Patsy doesn’t have any contact information for Delia, hasn’t even dared to friend her on facebook. It’s not that she doesn’t want to, more that she is terrified of asking Delia and then seeing reluctance in her. And she’s sure she will see reluctance.

After Antonia leaves (making a pointed beeline towards the only baker doing a sweet bake- a slightly dry looking but wonderful smelling panettone), it occurs to Patsy that she might be missing Delia rather more than she should be, more than the others are.

True, Trixie had mentioned Delia’s absence at lunch and wondered aloud whether she was sick- but she had been so very casual about it! Patsy had had to deliberately force herself not to say anything about it, afraid that she’d find herself obsessing over it too obviously, that she’d sound too involved for something so small- but Trixie had mentioned it so lightly- and then the conversation had moved right on.

Is Patsy really the only one dwelling on it so- for a moment she wonders how they are able to be so disinterested: don’t they notice how much quieter the baking tent is without Delia’s laughing, her teasing- how much harsher everything sounds without Delia’s soft Welsh lilt underlying it, how Barbara’s voice as she called out the traditional ‘Ready, set, bake!’ earlier sounded wrong- too thin- on it’s own?

(Actually, she could bet that Barbara, at least, has noticed- she seems a little lost without Delia’s presence at her side and Patsy appreciates for a moment how much more confidence Delia gives the other girl.)

Most of all, didn’t everyone notice how much more criticisms seared when Delia wasn’t across the tent to catch one’s eye and offer a wink or a smile?

Barbara made her way to Patsy’s workstation once Antonia was a safe distance away, obviously not wanting to set off another Hydra-based critique.

‘I see you’ve caught the sharp side of Antonia’s tongue today, Patsy.’

'Well, it has to be somebody.’

'It’s times like this I’m happy I get to sample the offerings rather than make them- this is proving a hard week for lots of our bakers. Maybe we should have done two weeks of biscuits instead of bread!’

(Patsy is sure Barbara wouldn’t have minded that- despite their differing temperaments, Barbara and Antonia are at least alike in their predilection for confectionery.)

Patsy gives a slightly strained smile. She finds she really doesn’t have the energy for making herself television friendly- especially as this might be her last week.

'Delia chose the right week to miss.’ And I wish she hadn’t.

'I agree- Delia, if you’re watching, you’re an utter scoundrel for abandoning us all in the most trying week yet! And-’ Barbara turns back to Patsy, from where she had been speaking directly to the camera, ’-of course you must be feeling Delia’s absence more than most of us.’

Patsy freezes. Oh god. Has she been that obvious?

Shame warms her cheeks- she dips her head, and finds herself staring at the dusting of spilt flour on her work surface. She hasn’t been told how they’re planning on editing this series- but she knows enough now to be aware that every series has a running joke, something constant that they keep referring back to- a this bakers overuse of alcohol for example, that baker’s trademark lipstick or signature line. Is it possible that this series the running joke is her?

She thinks of all the times she has looked up to catch Delia’s eye, all the times she has engaged her in conversation- are they all just forming part of a running joke, her neediness becoming a trademark?

'What do you mean?’ It sounds stilted- in fact, it’s an effort to get the words out at all.

Barbara looks a little nonplussed.

'Well only that-’

'I don’t know what you’re talking about- you can hardly imagine you’ve gotten a handle on all of us so soon into the competition, can you?’ Patsy’s humiliation makes her want to hide but it can also make her cutting. 'When all you really do is taste the batter?’

It’s a mistake. She knows it as soon as she says it- no matter what Barbara meant, even if what she fears is true, it isn’t Barbara’s fault and jibes won’t make her feel better.

She feels worse, in fact- partly it’s the tiny, almost imperceptible flinch Barbara gives at the words, partly it’s the knowledge that she knows she’s not the only one implying that Barbara isn’t terribly important: there’s a small but vocal section of twitter who since the show’s beginning have publicised how little store they set towards Barbara- her looks, her comedic potential, her contribution to the show as a whole are routinely questioned. Patsy was vaguely aware of this long before she even applied for the show herself- and if she was aware, how much more aware of it much Barbara be?

'Well’ To her credit, Barbara recovers quickly- in a split second, she is smiling again and all self- deprecating humour 'That is true- between you and me, I still have to write half your names on my hand before the show starts- but I meant we’ve all noticed that Delia is the only one to persistently steal at least half your batter. It must be quite a novelty to actually be baking with all the mixture you started off with!’

The immensity of the relief that Barbara was in fact referring to nothing more serious than Delia penchant for stealing fingerfulls of batter makes Patsy almost sway where she stands; at the same moment, Barbara turns on her heel and leaves, walking a little more quickly than usual to the front of the tent and less difficult contestants.

The taste of guilt is bitter in her throat.

In the end, she can tell her Kaiser rolls are undercooked even as she takes them up to the judges, and it comes as no surprise when they slice one open to reveal a damply stodgy inside.

Antonia refuses to even taste it, although by the time Patsy comes to the front, she has refused to sample three of the four prior bakes (making an exception of course for the panettone), claiming that 'there is too much disappointment already in this world without me adding to it of my own free will. Our lord compels us to ask, for it shall be given unto you- I scarcely think in the light of such that asking for a little sweetness is unreasonable!’

Louise nibbles a piece of the crust that she has dislodged from the top, talking about proving time and the importance of ensuring optimum conditions for rising.

'As far as flavours go, you’ve done a little better here you have with the consistency of the dough- the tarragon was an ambitious but interesting choice- but ultimately it’s the basics which have let you down here’

Patsy nods mutely and carries her tray back to her station at the back of her tent. She is aware of Trixie trying to catch her eye as she goes past, she’s whispering something that sounds like 'Bad luck’, sympathetically- but Patsy deliberately pretends not to hear. She doesn’t want sympathy. What she would like- please, if there is a god up there- is to not let her crushing disappointment show anywhere on her face, at least not when the cameras are on her.

When she reaches the safety of her station, she keeps her back straight and her eyes fixed at a point somewhere near to the ceiling.

In control. Just like always.

*

They’re dismissed, as usual, while the bakers are judging. Trixie tries to talk to her again, as she passes by to the opening of the tent, but Patsy finds she can’t bear the thought of talking about it, of having to explain what happened with her dough, with Barbara (she can’t pretend to herself that no one else heard her snap- the workstations are far too close together and Trixie is right in front of her after all) and she brushes her off with a brusque 'Just leave it alone, alright?’ as she passes,. Cutting Trixie off mid sentence.

Wonderful. Another person she’s managed to alienate.

It doesn’t take long, does it?

Outside, she takes a long drag on her cigarette, and when a pigeon comes to scratch near her feet (perhaps hoping for an encore of the previous week- Delia had joined her with a handful of cake crumbs swept up from the workstations and they’d fed him, until more had gathered and they;d ended up in the middle of a small flock, laughing and discussing whether pigeon taming constituted a real profession they could take up after the series) she sighs and taps her foot to scare him away.

He narrows a beady red eye at her and then retreats, looking back accusingly, Patsy thinks.

Now she’s even managing to make the local wildlife hate her.

She wonders if maybe that’s why Delia is missing- she’s done something or said something that has hurt her or scared her off- not that she can remember saying anything that could be deemed potentially offensive- but then she can’t remember everything she’s said to Delia since the series started, they talk every day of filming, every chance they have, after all. She’s been reveling in the easiness of it all- the feeling that she can say nearly anything and everything to Delia- but now she knows she should’ve been more cautious.

She is guarded with people for a reason, for goodness sake. She should have learnt by now that letting too much of her real self out will not end well- and today has been perfect proof of that. She somehow manages to drive everyone away- and on the rare times it isn’t deliberate, she manages it effortlessly anyway.

She really will miss Delia.

If only-

'Hello, Pats’

A pair of yellow doc martins have appeared beside her.

Delia has appeared at Patsys elbow, smiling as easily as if she’d never been away.

'Have you missed me while I’ve been gone?’

Patsy wants to answer, but she’s done such a wonderful job of convincing herself that Delia will never speak to her again that it’s tricky. Delia is looking so happy to see her, whereas Patsy can’t quite manage to smile back and her throat is finding itself to be unaccountably tight.

'Pats?’

'You’re back.’

Delia laughs, a little embarrassed. 'Yes- I don’t think anyone has ever been THIS late to work in the whole history of filming!’

'What happened?’

'Car trouble- I really need to send it to a mechanic but I keep putting it off. They said I could sort the car thing out and just come in tomorrow- mostly because it would be too disruptive to have me popping up half way through apparently, especially as I couldn’t even say WHEN exactly I’d be here- but I couldn’t bear not to come in for a moment to see how you were doing!’

She grins at Patsy. 'I missed being able to steal a taste of your batter- did it put you off doing your bake with everything you started with?’

'That’s what Barbara said.’

'Mm- she told me. She…..also said you seemed a little on edge today, Pats.’

There is only the slightest hint of chiding in Delia’s tone- she certainly couldn’t be described to actually be sounding annoyed with Patsy- but on top of everything else today, it’s too much- obviously Barbara has told Delia what she said- how could she not- and surely Delia must have feelings about how she’s treated her friend, even if she’s too restrained to show them- and all at once, Patsy has to look away to hide how unaccountably wet her eyes are.

'I’m sorry. I was dreadful to her-you must’-’

'Pats?’ Delia's tone is inimitably gentle and somehow that makes her throat tighten even more. 'What’s the matter?’

'I just-’

'Barbara didn’t really say anything about you to me, you know- only that you were having a hard day. Did something happen between you?’

She can’t speak.

'Pats?’

She tries to take a deep breath but it sounds like a sob, and then Delia’s hand is on her arm.

'Come on Pats, let’s sit down.’ She leading her away, away from the tent- and thankfully away from any potential cameras- there’s a stump on the edge of the woods that border the field on two sides and she presses Patsy down onto it gently, then kneels in front of her.

'Right, take your time. When you’re ready, tell me what happened.’

Patsy tries but Delia shakes her head.

'When you’re ready, I said. Take a minute Pats, we’re in no rush.’

‘The judging-’

'It’ll add some excitement to make everyone think a presenter has absconded with a contestant- I don’t think it’s ever happened before.’

They sit in silence, Delia’s hand warm on her arm, as she gulps and tries to get her breathing back to some semblance of normality.

'I was awful to Barbara earlier.’

'So you said. What happened? I’m sure it can’t be as bad as you think- Barbara looks fine to me.’

'She said- she said something, and I snapped at her. I was- rude.’

'Oh Pats- is that all?’

'I said it was too soon for her to understand any of us, I said- that all she did was taste the batter…’

There’s a pause and then a tiny breath of laughter from Delia- and her hand rubbing Patsy’s arm, as if in reassurance that she isn’t laughing AT her.

'Honestly, sweetheart- I’ve heard worse.’

'But-’

'And so has Babs. She isn’t upset with you, I promise.’

'But she might be-’

'No- if she was, she would’ve mentioned it to me. Trust me, Babs can be pretty candid when she wants to be. Honestly, she said you were a little off today but also that you've been having a bad day and that you seemed quite stressed, that’s all. She isn’t holding a grudge. The baking challenge this morning was a bit tough on everyone I’ve heard?’

Patsy can’t believe how easily Delia is brushing off what she’s spent the last hour feeling so terribly awful for- but she’s grateful all the same. Maybe she can talk to Barbara when they go back, apologise, without it being thrown back in her face.

'My katah was terrible. And my rolls just now.’

'Katah?’

'Armenian bread. The layers were all wrong.’

'Oh!’ Delia looks delighted 'What a shame- I’d have loved to taste it! Still, that’s impressively ambitious, really Pats- most people I think wouldn’t have even thought of Armenian cuisine. You’ll at least get points for being creative.’

'Really?’

'The only thing worse than a bad bake is a bad boring bake. If nothing else, you were original. As for today- well, everyone has off days.’

'I might get sent home, Deels’

'I know. I don’t think you will though.’

'You’re not a judge’

Delia beams- maybe just relieved that Patsy is up to light sarcasm again.

'I know- but I’ve listened to what they say, they take your previous weeks into account. And you’ve impressed them so far, you know.’

She pauses. 'You’ve impressed ME so far.’

'Honestly?’

'Of course! I wouldn’t bother to steal from a bad baker after all!’

Patsy manages a watery smile and brushes at her eyes- Delia digs into the pocket of her blazer, hands her a tissue and Patsy takes it gratefully.

'Pats-’ Delia looks serious 'Can I ask what Babs said to upset you? You don’t have to say if you don’t want to. But if it was a question or a topic or something you want to avoid in future, you can just tell me what it is and I’ll let Babs know to stay off it in future. You don’t have to tell me why or anything either. Just- if it helps-’

Maybe it’s the sincere concern in Delia’s face, how incredibly invested she seems in making sure Paty doesn’t feel pressed- such a novelty- after all, most people take any hint of upset as their cue to push for juicy details- but she wants to be honest. Despite what Delia says, she’s fairly sure she’ll be eliminated anyhow, and she surely owes this girl honestly, after she’s been so kind.

'She- ah- she said that I would be missing you. More than most people.’

'Ah. I see.’

‘I thought she meant it was being used as….as a series joke.’

Delia looks serious. To her credit she doesn’t pretend to misunderstand.

'Patsy. I need to apologise. I know I’ve been very informal with you. I swear, I’ve never wanted you to feel uncomfortable. I know it must’ve been hard with me being a presenter but I promise I never meant to-’

Is she- Patsy has to shake herself, initially confused by what Delia’s saying- does she think Patsy was upset because she resented the implication that they are- that they could be- that they might be- that there might be…something between them?

Is she joking?

One look at Delia’s face though, and Patsy knows she isn’t.

'I know I’ve been very open about my- preferences and I suppose I have- unwittingly of course- given more- focus to you. I am sorry, Pats- I never meant to make you feel that there was any pressure on you to return my- to- I know you’re straight, not that that matters when even if you weren’t you- Oh god, this is going so badly-’ Delia looks so flustered and Patsy heart squeezes. She has to say something.

'Delia….I-’

Delia stops, looking miserable and apologetic.

Patsy wants to say the perfect thing to make everything ok but of course words are never that easy.

'Delia- I- wasn’t upset because I didn’t- .’

'Pats?’

‘I thought she was laughing at me’ she bursts out eventually 'I thought- it seemed like she was laughing at- how much I like you. I thought I was being subtle and I was afraid-’

'Oh’ Delia looks wrong footed 'Oh.’

'Yes.’

There’s a moment, they both gather themselves. Waiting for the other to speak first. Patsy is almost holding her breath. This is the most honest she’s been with anyone for- well, ever.

'I see.’ Suddenly Delia smiles at her.

'Well- that’s alright then’

'What do you mean?’

'You missed me. And I missed you. No one is being laughed at. And it seems both of us are good at misunderstanding the other. That’s all.’

'I suppose so’

Delia seems so calm about it all- and somehow it helps Patsy feel calm too, like Delia is passing it on through osmosis.

'I’m quite glad to have it confirmed that I haven’t been a nuisance to you, actually.’

'Oh! No. Definitely not. I- I don’t even mind you stealing my batter.’

'Ah excellent. Not that I intended on stopping of course, even if you did mind. It’s just too good!’

Delia grins at her, and Patsy finds herself smiling back.

'Are you alright now, Pats?’

'I think so. Does it-’ she gestures to her face. What she wants to ask is 'Does it look like I’ve been crying? But she can’t quite be that candid yet, despite everything.

Luckily, Delia understands immediately. 'No, not at all.’

Patsy takes a deep breath.

'Shall we go back then?’

'Yes. I suppose so. I can’t steal you for too long or they send out a search party.’

And together, they make their way back to the tent.

*

The next day, Patsy brings a loaf of perfectly baked katah to the tent. She jokes that it’s really just to prove that she can bake really, and it’s shared among everyone, but she makes a point to hand the first slice to Barbara, the second to Trixie. The third to Delia.

It tastes delicious.


End file.
